"Then tell me—tell me all about it," urged Merriwell.
"Dere ain't much ter tell. Some sneak wanted yer arm broke, an' he came ter me ter do der job. He paid me twenty ter lay fer youse an' fix yer. I was hard up an' I took der job, dough I didn't like it much. Den he put me onter yer, an' I follored yer ter der house where youse went dis evenin'. I watched till yer comes out, and den I skips roun' ter head yer off yere. I heads yer an' asks fer a light. Youse knows der rest better dan wot I does."
"Well, this is decidedly interesting! So I have an enemy who wants my arm broken?"
"Yes, yer right arm."
"That would fix me so I'd never pitch any more."
"Dat's wot's likely, if ye're a pitcher."
"Would you know the person who hired you if you were to see him again?"
"Sure."
"Did he give you his name?"
"Dat's wot he did."